


"ABC, easy as 1-2-3"

by orphan_account



Series: Clint-centric fics, cause he's underated [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton-centric, Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Clint Barton, Kid Clint Barton, Light Angst, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22535569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Clint is off duty for a month after breaking his legs on a mission and is stuck in Stark tower for a month. Being around him every day, it doesn't take long for the two local geniuses to realize how little schooling the youngest avenger actually has, and take it upon themselves to give him a proper education, no matter how much he doesn't want it.
Series: Clint-centric fics, cause he's underated [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621465
Comments: 19
Kudos: 189





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sharp Shooting Shorty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22424971) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> ***This fic will be confusing unless you read the first fic of this series, "Sharp Shooting Shorty" 
> 
> I really appreciate everyone who reads me fics!!! If you loved it, or hated it, please let me know in the comments! Only rated T for some mild swearing.

Clint Barton was frustrated. Frustrated and cranky, but he was trying not to show it because every time he displayed any mildly negative emotions, Tony made some jackass comment about how he was a typical teenager. He was lying on the couch thinking about how much he wanted a glass of water but couldn't get one partially because he had two broken legs, and partially because when he'd been told he could return to the tower Nat had positioned him on the couch and wrapped him so tight in a blanket he could hardly breathe, let alone move. Part of him thought that she'd wrapped him so tight so that he wouldn't try to get up and walk on his broken limbs, and the other part thought maybe she'd done it so he wouldn't sign swear words at anyone who walked past him with a pitying look. The latter being what he very much wanted to do at the moment. He sighed, thinking about how in a perfect world he'd be drinking a glass of water, and maybe in a really perfect world he'd be heading off to Belize with Nat for their next mission. Right on cue, the assassin walked into the communal living room wearing her uniform, and carrying a water bottle and granola bar. He smiled at her, feeling suddenly very content as she sat the food and drink on the table in front of him and helped him into a sitting position. She unscrewed the cap from the bottle and handed it to him. 

"I figured you'd be thirsty" She said, raising her eyebrows as her partner downed the drink in one go. He gulped, giving her only a nod. God he loved her sometimes. "I've got to leave soon, but is there anything else you need before I head out?" 

"Can you grab my hearing aids? they're in their charging doc." She left the room, to return only moments later with Clint's now charged aids. He muttered a grateful thanks as he popped them in. She gave him a warm smile and brushed her fingers through his hair.

"Okay, now I really have to go. Good luck." Clint knew she was referencing being stuck in a house with Tony for weeks without her, he smiled weakly at the prospect of it. She departed after that with a case full of weapons. 

The moment she left the room, Steve walked in. He was carrying a sketchbook and some pencils. He settled himself carefully on the couch next to Clint so not to hurt the archer, and gave the water bottle in Clint's hands a nasty look. Clint bit back a smirk remembering that the only reason Tony bought the bottles was so that every time anyone had a drink of water, he could point to the lid in their hands and say,

"Hey look **_Cap!_** It's you!" A lot of things in the Stark tower had caps nowadays for that specific reason.

"Hey, Barton. How're you feeling?" Clint shrugged,

"A little sore, but I've been through worse." The captain nodded looking thoughtful for a moment, before his eyes lit up with something akin to realization. 

"I almost forgot! Bruce told me to give this to you." He flipped open his sketchbook to reveal a magazine of some sort he'd tucked inside. He tossed it to the archer who caught it with his swift reflexes. Upon further inspection it looked like one of those science journals Bruce always had in tow. He furrowed his brow at the captain, who shrugged in response, "He said there's an article about the physics of archery in there. He thought you might like it." Clint tried to hold down a blush as he set the magazine on the table. He cleared his throat in an attempt to fill the silence,

"Um, yeah. maybe I'll read it later." He flicked on the tv, trying to feign casualness, while inside his head was a flurry of thoughts. He was silently praying that Steve didn't think his reaction to the journal was weird. He flicked his eyes over the the man who was already sketching in his book and generally looking like he hadn't given Clint's uncomfortable reaction a second thought, and held in a breath of relief. The Avengers had grown closer to Clint, and had already learned more about him than he'd've liked, but they didn't get to know this. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know, you really don't have to do this."  
> "I know Clint, but I want to."
> 
> I'm in the mood for writing some fluff, and that's all I'm gonna' say about this chapter (;

Clint had a pretty uneventful afternoon. Occasionally one of his team members would wander on to the communal floor and strike up a conversation, but really he spent the day watching TV, and trying to distract himself from the appealing refuge in the air ducts above him. It wasn't till the early evening that Bruce appeared in the living room for the first time. His hair was a scruffy mess on his head, and his eyes were weighed down with heavy black shadows making it apparent he'd been working in the lab for quite a few hours. He gave the young archer the same fond smile he always did as he approached, and Clint held back the urge to wrinkle his nose. Of all the _mortal_ Avengers Bruce was the farthest from Clint in age. And so, whenever he looked at him as he was in that particular moment, it made him feel, if possible, even younger. He knew it was a look of kindness, but it felt a touch diminutive. Bruce settled himself in a large chair across from the couch, and leant forward to place a bottle of pills on the coffee table. 

"Is there any pain?" His eyes flickered to Clint's casted legs, which had been signed by all the Avengers at some point while Clint was unconscious in the med bay, "You're due for more painkillers if you want them, but you probably shouldn't take them on an empty stomach. I can make dinner if you want." Clint's attempts at looking like a stoic mature man instead of a little kid fell at the prospect of being made dinner. He smiled sheepishly at the scientist, 

"Yeah dinner would be great. But, you don't have to." he added quickly as the scientist readily rose from his seat to go make food.

"Of course I don't mind Clint. You are broken after all." He smirked, enjoying razzing the archer. Clint couldn't contain a scoff at that, 

"I keep on telling you guys I'm not broken, I'm fine! I'm a spy for christ's sake. _T_ _his_ " he gestured to his legs, "is barely a scratch!" Bruce's face fell at Clint's declaration, but only fractionally.

"It concerns me that you view two broken limbs as _a scratch._ " The archer only grinned in response. Bruce left Clint's line of vision, then returned pushing a wheelchair in front of him. The younger man was no longer able to hold in the look of frustration, and wrinkled his nose aggressively at the chair. It really wasn't the chair so much as the prospect of being pushed around in it that bothered Clint. This made sense, because one of his biggest pet peeves was people assuming that because he was young, or disabled he wasn't as capable. So in turn, he never wanted to look like he was relying on others. _Even_ when he had two broken limbs. It was the reason Clint had been stranded on the couch all day. If Bruce saw Clint's disdain, he made no comment on it, but simply helped the archer into the chair and wheeled him into the kitchen so the two could continue conversing as he cooked. Bruce made some grilled cheese, which he knew was close to the most basic meal ever, but Clint seemed immensely grateful that someone had cooked for him.

"Did you read that article I left with Steve?" 

"Oh, ummm no. I didn't really have time." Clint winced at his own statement. _Didn't have time? You had the most time you've had in years! Nice one Barton._ Bruce looked a touch hurt. 

"Right. I didn't mean to bore you with science stuff or anything. I just thought you'd-" 

"No! It wasn't that." Clint was scrambling now, not wanting to injure the feelings of the man who just cooked for him. "I just erm... I'm not that good at reading and sciencey stuff. But, if I could understand it, I bet the article would have been really interesting." The scientist just looked confused now. Clint realized he was going to have to give Bruce some more background information. "I never went to highschool, or middle school for that matter. Life, and being a spy and all... it kind of got in the way of me having any formal education." Clint felt mortified as Bruce's face softened into pity. Great, now the team had another reason to look down on him. 

"Do you ever think about getting your diploma online?" Clint shrugged,

"I was never really great at school when I went. I think doing it online without a teacher may be hard for me. Besides, I'm pretty busy right now."

"Yeah, just like you were busy today." Bruce raised his eyebrows at Clint. "You do realize you live with a guy who has 7 phds, and Tony Stark, who's like the world's top genius, right? You're gonna be benched for a while Clint, why not ask Tony and I to help you out?" Clint tried not to squirm uncomfortably,

"I didn't want to bother you guys." 

"I wouldn't have offered to help if it bothered me. Besides, we're a team, and teams look out for each other. You'd do the same for us. Why don't you start by trying to read that article. You can circle the parts you didn't get, and it'll give me some idea of where you are." Bruce paused for a moment, before continuing carefully, "You know how to read right? 'Cause I've seen you fingerspelling in ASL." If Clint wasn't blushing before, he was now. His teammate thought he was so stupid he didn't know how to read. 

"Yeah, I can read, just not super well." Clint took a bite of his sandwich hoping to avoid further conversation on the topic. Thankfully Bruce followed suit, and the pair ate in silence for a while, until Clint felt the urge to speak again. "You know, you really don't have to do this."

"I know Clint, but I want to."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Tony have their first lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all. For those of you who don't know, I've been really sick. It's been pretty stressful, and involved making the trip to a nearby city a few times to go to a larger hospital, because I live in a kind of rural area. So, I'm really sorry I haven't updated this in a while. Either way, I tried to go to school today, but I couldn't make it through the day. I'm back on bedrest now, and I thought it might be a good opportunity to add another chapter to this poor little neglected Clint fic.
> 
> Just wanted to thank everyone who's still reading this story for sticking with it even though the updates have been sparse. I really appreciate it!

Clint was back on the couch staring at the science journal. He'd been told to just highlight the words he didn't know, but there were so many, he didn't even know where to start. All he really wanted to do was continue chewing on the highlighter drooping out of the corner of his mouth, and keep on brainstorming the best way to complete his first "homework assignment" without looking stupid. He sighed, trying to shove the nagging thoughts about how dumb he was into the far back corner of his brain. His eyes darted up when he heard footsteps approaching, and he yanked the highlighter out of his mouth as Tony entered the room.

"Hey kid." 

"Not a kid." he murmured so quietly the engineer probably didn't hear it as he left the room and went into the kitchen. He returned shortly with one of those water bottles he'd bought. He sat down on the couch next to Clint, and raised his eyebrows when he saw what the archer was reading. 

"Did Bruce give you that?" Clint nodded sheepishly, not looking up from the magazine. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Clint's eyes flitting from one part of the page to another. He kept expecting to hear the sound of Tony turning on the tv, but it never came. Finally, he looked up at the older man, trying to keep the unwarranted annoyance out of his voice.

"Are you gonna' turn on the tv or something?" Tony shook his head calmly, and hesitated for a moment before speaking, which was very out of character for him. 

"Bruce told me about... well, you know." Clint did know, but he didn't want to accept that word had spread of his stupidity, so he didn't respond. Tony perceived it apparently as Clint not 'knowing' "He just told me that you weren't as lucky as some to a highschool education." He expected Tony would be the one to mock his situation, but instead he looked sad for some reason unclear to Clint. I don't know why you didn't tell me sooner, but either way I just wanted to see if you were understanding the article alright." Clint rubbed his face with both his hands, trying to wake himself up a little.

"I didn't tell you sooner because I feel _so_ stupid now that you know." Clint sighed into his hands. Tony let out a scoff,

"Why? Because you weren't presented with the opportunity to exercise your constitutional right to receive an education, or because you're taking matters into your own hands and doing something about it?" Clint blushed, but hid it with a snarky response,

"Okay Captain America. Jeez, since when do you care about 'exercising constitutional rights'? Tony didn't laugh like Clint thought he would,

"I'm being serious Clint. If you were a minor when you started working for SHIELD, why didn't they provide you with any form of education?" Clint squirmed under Tony's serious stare. Tony was never serious! 

"It wasn't their main priority." He mumbled, though he knew it was no excuse. He felt grateful when Tony finally turned his attention to the journal instead of scrutinizing Clint's face. He hoped all conversation about his past would cease, but that wasn't the case, because apparently Tony felt that he hadn't made his point clear yet.

"You aren't stupid Clint. You're uneducated sure, but you're not stupid." He cleared his throat awkwardly, and his face suddenly shifted into a much brighter expression, "Right. Let's take a look at that article. Did you finish reading it?"

"Yeah, but... there are a lot of words I don't know." Clint tried to ignore the burning sense of embarrassment as he used the tip of the highlighter to point to an unfamiliar word. His eyes had been drifting back to it for a while now, and he'd been digging into the depths of his brain, trying to see if he could remember it. Tony patiently explained the meaning of the word velocity, and even wrote a little reminder in the margin. After a while, Clint had learned most of the words he hadn't recognized, and was understanding the article a lot better. He appreciated how Tony had, surprisingly, not once laughed, or commented on how uneducated Clint was, but rather praised him on how fast he was picking it all up. He was actually a really good teacher. He encouraged Clint to still highlight any words he hadn't known so he could show Bruce, despite the fact he didn't want to. Tony must have seen Clint's discontent at the prospect of showing the scientist everything he hadn't understood, because he smiled and elbowed Clint's upper arm. 

"You're doing great. Pretty soon you'll be working down in the labs with Bruce and I. That is, once you're able to walk again." He looked pointedly at Clint's legs. It was Clint's turn to scoff,

"Yeah, just because I'm letting you teach me some stuff, doesn't mean I'm a nerd like you two." He paused thoughtfully, "Thank you though, for teaching me. You're surprisingly good at it." Tony laughed at that, 

"Surprisingly? Watch it kid, or you're gonna' have to get someone else to teach you."

"Not a kid!" Clint shot back his default response.

"Okay, whatever you say shorty." Tony smiled warmly, "It's no problem, you're a good student." He finally turned on the tv, "and you are too a child."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: The one good thing about being sick is that no one judges when you eat saag aloo in bed.


	4. Chapter 4

On Clint's third day free from the medical wing of SHIELD, and living back in the tower, the nausea and general soreness had finally died down enough for him to steer around his own wheelchair. This was a god send for the young archer, seeing as his youthful energy combined with his habit of constantly skulking in shadows made spending two days in the communal floor living room terribly unpleasant for Clint. On the elevator, he scanned all the different floors, carefully considering all the different options of places he could go. His first thought was that he wanted to go down to the gym to watch Cap train, or maybe even stop by the archery range and see if two broken legs affected his marksmanship, but for some reason he kept on feeling drawn back to the lab floor that Tony and Bruce shared. After a few moments, Clint pressed the button, and found himself transported to one of the few floors in the tower he'd never ventured to. 

Clint thanked JARVIS as he got off the elevator, because even though he knew that it wasn't possible, he still couldn't shake the feeling that JARVIS was human. Either way, the AI seemed happy enough to partake in human pleasantries. He hesitantly wheeled onto the floor, and saw that he was going to have to wait for one of the scientists to let him into the lab. Which, would mean of course that, much to Clint's regret, he would have to announce his presence instead of his initial plan of sitting unnoticed in some dark corner of the room. He rapped on the window, and got an immediate response from Tony, who tilted his head up to the ceiling and was obviously requesting that JARVIS open the door. 

"What's up kiddo?" Tony ruffled the archer's hair, earning himself a painful flick to the jaw. 

"Not much really. Just feeling bored." Clint regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, because Tony took it as an opportunity to quiz him on all the new vocabulary he'd learned from the article, seeing as he had nothing better to do. He tried to no avail to bite down the swell of pride that he felt every time one of the scientists praised him on how well he explained each term, not once forgetting a word he'd learned. 

After around fifteen minutes of watching the two men work on their latest project from just in front of the door, Bruce waved for Clint to come in further. With some trepidation, Clint wheeled himself over to Bruce's work space, where he was reading something on a Starkpad. As Clint got closer, he saw that it was a grade 7 math sheet from an educational site. 

"A lot of the words that you initially didn't recognize were math terms," Bruce said thoughtfully, "so maybe trying to work through some of the online worksheets I found might be a good place to start." He handed the tablet over to Clint. "You can work at my desk if you want, and I'm always here if you have questions." Clint bit his lip, and gave Bruce a thin smile,

"Thanks doc." 

"Sure. Remember the word exponential from the article?" He waited for Clint to nod before he continued, "Knew you would. That sheet's on exponents. If you read through the description at the top of the page, you'll see that they're related." 

At the desk, Clint swiped through the pages, and tried to hide his frustration at the fact that he was nearly twenty, and he was doing a thirteen-year-old's homework. As he was reading, he began losing his focus, watching Tony and Bruce work. He couldn't help comparing himself to them. 

"You okay there Clint?" He was pulled from his thoughts by Tony waving a screwdriver in his face. The man was wearing cargo shorts and a muscle tee, which Clint would have found amusing if he was in a better mood, seeing as his lab partner was outfitted in goggles a lab coat and safety gloves. He shrugged, and pointed to one part of the page, 

"Why exactly is anything to the power of zero one? That part doesn't really make sense to me." He may have not been the best at math, but he could read faces, and it was clear on Tony's face that he knew the answer, but the engineer just shrugged,

"You don't need to worry about that yet. It's a bit confusing." Yeah, that was code for Tony thinking that Clint was too dumb to understand. Clint held back the urge to respond with something snarky about how he wasn't stupid, and instead just thanked Tony.

* * *

It was an hour or so before Clint finished the worksheet on exponents, _too long_ he decided. The archer was stuck, because he wanted to tell Bruce that he'd finally finished his work, but at the same time, whatever Bruce was doing looked like it was a lot more important than some grade school math and he didn't want to pull the scientist from his work if he was focused. He sat for some time, debating in his head, but he ended up not having to make either decision, because he was very abruptly pulled from his thoughts by Tony zapping him with some pointy narrow rod. 

"I see you've finished birdbrain?" Clint snatched the pointy thing, whatever it was, from Tony and threw it in a perfect arch across the room, where it hit the pin board with a satisfying sound. 

"Yup," he popped the p, "all done." His cocky smirk began to fall when Tony pulled up a chair next to Clint and took the stark pad from him, obviously to check his work. After what felt like years of Clint silently panicking while he engineer wrote on his work, Tony held the Stark Pad in Clint's line of vision to show him the now marked up worksheet. 

"All in all, really good for your first time doing exponents. They can be tricky." He didn't hide he pride in his voice that he had for his pupil. But, the younger man didn't seem to notice the praise, because he was too focused on the four questions at the bottom of the page that Tony had circled.

"I got four out of fifteen wrong?" Clint rubbed his forehead tiredly, and scrunched up his face in disappointment, "How'd I manage that?" Tony frowned at how hard Clint was being on himself,

"Listen, four wrong is not that bad. We're gonna look at this together, and see where you messed up so you know in the future. And besides, they were all super common mistakes th-"

"Common mistakes for a thirteen-year-old, Tony." The archer cut him off with a huff, "If I were in uni like other people my age, I wouldn't even be close to passing."

"Maybe, but you're not like other people your age, and you're not in uni. You're a student with a severe disadvantage compared to others your age, who's taken it upon himself to gain the education he missed due to what could be considered extreme situations." Tony kept his voice calm, verging on comfort when he saw the how Clint's face was all pinched up in an attempt to contain his emotions. However, there was no hiding the overhanging frustration in his voice at the fact SHIELD had neglected to educate a minor. "This worksheet doesn't even count for anything, so there's no need to worry about it." Clint just scoffed in response, and it was like he wasn't listening to a single word Tony was saying to him.

Bruce was quietly watching the scene unfold from his workstation, and he knew that Tony was impatient at the best of times, and he wasn't accustomed to having people not listen to him. Bruce also knew Tony was going to make the archer hear him. This time however, unlike most times Tony forced people to listen to him, it seemed to the scientist that this was probably in the person's best interest. 

"Look at me Clint. Please?" The archer had ducked his head down in frustration, and Bruce winced when Tony reached out to place his hand under the boy's chin, knowing that Clint sometimes reacted poorly to touch. If the hand tilting Clint's face up bothered him though, he didn't let it show, apart from a little frustrated grunt when Tony forced him to meet his eyes. "You may _think_ you're bad at math, but I know you know that you're good at reading faces." 

"Well no shit, I'm trained to read faces." the archer mumbled under his breath. 

" _Tone."_ Tony warned gently. Bruce realized he was witnessing one of those rare moments where he and Clint both acted their ages, and held back a smirk at the sight of it. "My point is, if you're so good at reading faces, look into mine and tell me what you see." Clint squirmed, but Tony held his grip on his jaw, never making his hold hard enough that the archer couldn't escape it if he wanted. 

"I dunno'"

"Fine then," Tony was being unusually patient, and seemed to have calmed down since Clint's initial outburst, "tell me what you don't see." Clint looked as confused as Bruce felt, "Do you see disappointment? What about anger, or mocking?" Tony's voice was getting softer with each word, and by the end of his sentence he had a strange half smile on his face. Clint squirmed for a few more seconds before quickly shooting his eyes up to meet Tony's, and shaking his head. "That's right," the engineer's voice had adopted that same praising paternal quality it had when he taught Clint, "because I'll never be disappointed in you, so long as try your hardest. And I'm your teacher, so my opinion's the only one that matters." He tried to bring that playful Stark swagger back into his voice, but his words still sounded so sincere that Clint nearly broke down then and there. Correction, Clint did break down then and there, shocking even himself when he felt the tears roll down his face. He was an _agent!_ Not some ordinary, emotional teen! God, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd cried, and now he was crying over some homework? 

Tony froze for a moment, frantically looking to Bruce for guidance. Bruce was utterly useless. He simply shrugged, and mouthed _hug?_ earning him a nasty look from his friend. The wheelchair did make it difficult to fully hug Clint, but he did open his arms, and welcome the archer to press his face against Tony's chest. He hummed in sympathy, and allowed Clint to sob into his shirt. Tony was sure there was going to be a wet spot right above his arc reactor after this. Unsure what else to do, Tony carded his fingers through Clint's hair in an attempt to comfort the young archer, but for some reason the more he received comfort, the harder he seemed to cry. 

After a while, the sobs turned into sniffles, and Tony held back a laugh as Clint wetly murmured,

"Fuck." with his face still pressed into Tony's chest. 

"Any better Legolas?" Clint sat up, and rubbed his face with his knuckles, in a final attempt to regain any smidgen of his pride. 

"Fuck." He repeated softly, earning a small tsk from Bruce, and a chuckle from Tony. "No one warns you that crying stings your eyes so much." He continued to rub his eyes. 

"I have a feeling that this isn't just about homework. You think you could tell me what's really going on?" Tony smirked at his lab partner, but his face fell when Clint spoke, 

"At SHIELD, I'm a marksman, and a weapon in and of myself, but nothing else, and no one there ever views me as a kid. I don't need a high school diploma to shoot arrows, so I don't think anyone's ever thought about me needing one at all. Except Tasha maybe, but what's she supposed to do about it? She has less of a formal education than me." Clint didn't miss the way Tony raised his eyebrows at Bruce, like he was asking if Natasha could be their next project after Clint. 

After a moment of tense silence, Clint took a breath and continued, "I should've said, no one saw the need for me to have a high school education until Coulson became my handler. Coulson would teach me little things every once and while, subtly like he didn't think I'd notice." Clint swallowed, and for a moment it looked as though he was gonna cry again, "he'd assign me novels to read during stakeouts, and things like that. He was a good teacher, like you guys." He gave Tony a weak smile, "Never made me feel dumb or anything like that. When he started as my handler, I'd only been out of school a little while, and he was pretty adamant about keeping me up to grade level of other kids my age. But, as I started moving up in rank, and getting longer missions more often, our homeschool sessions kind of became pretty scarce, and now I'm so behind I feel like I've failed him a little." Tony didn't know what to say, but thankfully Bruce did, because he spoke up for the first time since the conversation had started, 

"Clint, Coulson wouldn't be disappointed. He'd be so proud of you." The scientist delicately placed a hand on Clint's shoulder, "so proud." Clint rubbed fiercely as the final few fat tears rolled down his face, and attempted to give Bruce a grateful smile. The room went silent again, but it wasn't as heavy as before, more the silence of people too distracted by memories of someone to speak. Tony wasn't sure where to go from there, but he did know one thing; he and Fury were going to have a serious "chat" the next time he saw him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay safe out there! I'm spending these quarantine days reading lots of fics!!! Also, would anyone be interested in a similar fic about Nat, as mentioned in this chapter? If so, let me know in the comments!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking this fic will wind down in probably 3 more chapters, but segway right into another! I'm pretty sure all my fics in this collection are gonna be tower fics with 19 year old Clint, cause I low-key love exploring how character dynamics would shift depending on age.  
> __________________
> 
> Warning for some harsh language.

The day after Clint's little breakdown in the lab, the Avengers had their first mission without Thor, or either of their spies. It thankfully was a pretty easy mission, they didn't even have to call in the hulk. The real challenge, Tony knew, would come with debriefing Fury without ripping his head off. 

Long of the short, he didn't succeed. Far from it in fact. Fury walked right into it when he asked Tony why he seemed so 'pissy' after a successful mission. 

"Yeah, I'm not 'pissy' per-say, more just curious as to when SHIELD began dehumanizing children to use as weapons." Both other men in the room were looking at Tony like he was a chicken with its head cut off, but he pressed on nonetheless, "And on that note, when were you gonna tell us that Barton is a literal _child_?" Fury was stoic as ever, despite the fact that Tony looked like he was about to blow a gasket. 

"Couldn't agree more that Barton is a child. Hell, I'd reckon agent Barton is more immature than you at times."

"You know God-damn well that I'm not talking about maturity, Nick!" Tony slammed his fist on the table, he was seething now, "Clint is a 19-year-old boy, and not only that, he has no education!" Steve looked shocked at the statement, and almost like he wanted to join Tony's side of the argument (for once), but he didn't really know what the whole story was yet, so he settled for giving the director his 'Captain America is Disappointed in You' glare as the argument progressed. "You took him in when he was a kid, a _vulnerable,_ _extremely influenceable_ kid, and you taught him nothing except for how to shoot a bow and arrow."

"Correction, we took him in when he was a _dangerous_ criminal, and instead of locking him away somewhere, we gave him a future-"

"A future limited to only working for you! Cut the crap Fury, you know as well as I that neglecting to teach a kid because he's a criminal is a bullshit excuse."

"He's good at what he does, he's the best at what he does. He doesn't need anything else."

"You don't get to decide that." Tony had calmed down, apparently choosing the route of calm and intelligent debate. "You don't get to decide what he needs to know or not know. Yes, he's good at archery, but he's also incredibly quick-witted, and eager to learn. He has untapped potential, and drive." 

"Stark, you think I don't know that? May I repeat, he's intelligent, and he was a criminal we couldn't risk him knowing too much. A brash, young, _genius_ criminal? He would have been a serious threat if he'd decided to leave SHIELD and join a different side." Tony stood from the desk, looking extremely disappointed, 

"An intelligence organization that fears intelligence? Historically not awesome.* I'm done with you." Without another word, Stark left the office, leaving a flustered Steve, and an unimpressed Director behind him. 

"How many others Director? How many other minors have you recruited?" Nick raised his eyebrows at the captain,

"I saved him by giving him this job-"

"How many?"

"None. I've never met another kid with as much talent as Hawkeye, and few adults." There was a diluted version of praise in his tone. 

"Good. Keep it that way."

When Steve left the office, Tony was in the hall outside the door, waiting for him. Fists clenched, and face set in an outraged expression.

"Do you really think he could've been a genius?" Tony shrugged, 

"Genius? No. He's not naturally gifted, but he's definitely quick. Genius or not, he has potential, and he could've been something more by now if he'd been given the opportunity."

* * *

Tony Stark was going to die. Clint decided it right after he received a phone call from _Nick Fury_ himself, informing him that if he felt 'dehumanized' in his position at SHIELD, then he could easily be 'relieved' of his job. He wasn't even going to wait until he got out of that damn wheelchair. He was going to kill Tony Stark the moment he stepped off the elevator. Thankfully, he wouldn't have to wait long, because as he was wheeling himself into the elevator to go down to the communal floor and wait for Tony, he was faced with the man himself. 

"Where the _fuck_ do you get off Stark?" Tony's face was blank, but he could see the gears cranking in the man's head as he tried to figure out what he'd done wrong. "You told my boss I felt 'dehumanized' in my job? You told my boss anything, period, without asking me first?" Bruce who was in the corner of the elevator looked plain confused, while Steve looked more penitent than Tony, which really wasn't saying much, since Tony looked completely unapologetic. 

"He hired you when you were a kid, and-"

"Emphasis on _were_! I'm not a kid anymore, and I don't need you to talk to people for me. Especially my boss. I need you to stop babying me, and treat me like every other adult on this team!" Clint massaged his temples, looking thoroughly done with Tony. "What do you want Tony?" 

"What do I want? What do you m-"

"What do you want? What did you plan to achieve by going to my boss and telling him he shouldn't've hired me? Do you want me off the team?"

"Clint! you know that's not true!" 

"Then what do you want? You want him to go back in time put me in the foster system, or juvie?"

"No!" 

"Then what do you want?" For once, Tony Stark had no answer, but after a few minutes he spoke up,

"I want better for you. I wish I could do more for you. Give you a good childhood, with school dances and math tests and..." he shrugged, like he was unsure where his rant was going, "I with Fury hadn't taken that away from you." Clint's face crumpled for a moment, but he pulled it back together,

"My childhood," Clint choked on the word like it tasted nasty, "was over long before Fury came along. It's over. I'm an adult now, and I'm happy where I am. So I don't need you to go off fighting battles for me every time I cry. It's over," he repeated, "and so are our lessons. I don't need anything except for what I've got, and I don't need you. Just leave me alone unless it's to talk about a mission." 

"Kid, please! I'm sorry, okay?" Clint shook his head, 

"Stop calling me kid, Tony! I'm not a kid, and you're not my parent, or my teacher. You're nothing to me, just leave me alone." Clint wheeled himself off of the elevator, onto the communal floor.

The words stung. Tony's face was flushed, and he felt like Clint had slapped him, but he didn't go after him. Leave him alone. He could do that, right? If space was what the ki- CLint, needed to forgive him, he could do it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Tony Stark, AoU  
> ___________________
> 
> Under this there's a note that's about "Uh-oh, a cliff-hanger!" or something like that... I don't know where it came from, or how to get rid of it, but it's on all my chapters. If anyone knows how to get rid of it lmk please!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Egg rolls, and forgiveness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me, this is just a short little snippet, but... well, I don't really have an excuse, aside from I'm not sure how to articulate what I want to happen next, and I had to post something eventually. Anyone else watch Coleydoesthings on youtube, because she presented to me the idea of writing the entirety of a fic before posting the first chapter. Revolutionary. I'm still kind of new to this, I guess.   
> Please don't kill me! I give you virtual hugs to make up for my short chapter (/^-^)/ \\( '_')/ \\(v-v\\)

For someone with a broken femur, Clint was impressively self-sufficient. Having spent a lot more time than the average Joe toughing out brutal injuries, he'd mastered the art of getting around, dressing and, cooking for himself, while in a wheelchair. This was the reason that Clint managed to snub Tony as long as he did. For two weeks the youngest avenger refused to speak to, interact with, or even look at Tony. He was still relatively amicable towards Bruce, though he still had an aura of teenage angst whenever he spoke to any of the avengers. Steve received the same silent treatment as Tony when it was learned he also took part in the Fury bashing, however he was fractionally more civilized towards him after a profuse amount of apologies for getting involved from the super-soldier.

But Tony, he was in the dog house for sure. Any time he tried to speak to Clint, the younger man would remove his hearing aids, and avert his eyes. Had this action been directed at anyone else, Tony would've found it hilarious, but in this case, it was just plain hurtful. Still, he didn't complain, having realized pretty quickly the fault in his actions. He just wished that Clint would forgive him already! The kid could really hold a grudge.

* * *

Tony highly doubted it was a coincidence that the day Clint first spoke to Tony was also the day Natasha returned back to the tower from her mission. He was in the kitchen, eating lunch after having been forced out of his lab by Steve Rogers a.k.a. Captain America a.k.a. the world's absolute most _annoying_ mother hen, when Clint wheeled in, and greeted him with a shy wave. He gave the kid a casual salute, not wanting to spook him off with the mega-watt grin he felt inside him at Clint recognizing his existence for the first time in weeks. 

"So, um..." Clint stalled by searching through the fridge for something to eat, before pulling a carton of shrimp egg rolls out of a mountain of leftovers and continuing to speak, "I might of been a little bit harsh on you." He shrugged, "Natasha was pretty pis- peeved when he came home and learned I hadn't spoken to you in weeks over some argument, especially since you were just trying to help me. So, I'm sorry, I guess." Tony had to hold back a grimace when Clint popped one of the egg rolls into his mouth without even heating it up first. 

"I'm sorry too, Clint. I shouldn't've yelled at your boss on your behalf without even telling you beforehand. Also," Tony couldn't stand apologies, and was quick to change the subject, "if you don't want soggy microwave egg rolls, but you still want them, you know, hot," he raised his eyebrows at the now blushing archer, "I find that a toaster oven works wonders. 90 secs should be enough to heat em' up and keep em' crispy." Clint mumbled his thanks, and proceeded to prepare his egg rolls, though Tony heard him grumbling under his breath about how egg rolls were egg rolls, and they were good no matter how you prepared them. 

The pair ate in silence for a while, though it wasn't the same tense silence that'd enveloped any room they were in together the past few weeks, it was a comfortable silence of two friends enjoying each other's company. After a while, Clint went so far as to snatch a piece of pepperoni, and slip one of his beloved egg rolls onto the plate of the insulted engineer's plate. That was the moment that Tony knew he was forgiven. 

"I know I was kind of a jerk to you, and I said some things I didn't mean, but..." Clint rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "would you and Bruce maybe still be my teachers or whatever." Tony grinned,

"Sure, short-stack." He bit down on the gifted roll, only to spit it out a moment later. It was severely burnt on the outside, and the inside was filled with cold seafood. How had Clint managed to mess up toasting something so badly? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I say "Egg rolls" more in the first half of this chapter than I have throughout the span of my entire life. What can I say? I created what could possibly be the strangest head cannon ever that Clint loves egg rolls, and now it's my favourite thing ever. I might make some fan art of Clint hoarding egg rolls, hell, I might even write a whole fic about it! 
> 
> It's not that I'm particularly attached to egg rolls, but I read a Chinese menu online while trying to decide what Clint would eat during this chapter, and when I saw egg rolls, it just seemed like a match made in heaven.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Science Bro's Academy for Miscreant Archers is back in buisness! I couldn't keep my boys sad for too long. Also, the Avengers have story time, because I'm a soft fluffy idiot.
> 
> Warnings for multitudinous refrences to the Outsiders by S.E.-Hinton, and excesive fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever think that maybe the reason Steve is such a mother hen is because back when he was puny, he felt he couldn't do much, so he'd try to take care of other people *cough cough Bucky* to make up for his massive guilt complex?
> 
> Also, do I even need to say what bold font means anymore? If so, it means sign language.

The lessons started again just as abruptly as they had ended. One day Tony and Clint weren't even speaking to each other, the next they were sitting at the table together, eating egg rolls as Clint stuttered his way through the beginning of the Outsiders. Clint absolutely detested reading aloud, especially in front of others, but Tony was nothing but encouraging, even when Clint mispronounced words.

"N-n-not like the Socs, who jump greasers and wr-wreck houses and throw beer blasts for kicks, and get edi- edi- torials in the paper for being a public disgrace one day and an" Clint paused and rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I don't know the next word."

"Asset." Tony supplied.

"Thanks." Clint flushed, but carried on regardless, "an asse- asset to society the next." Clint stopped for a moment to pop an egg roll into his mouth. Tony took the moment of silence. as an opportunity to bring up an uncomfortable topic. 

"I've never heard you stutter before today. I mean, I've heard you slur when you don't have your aids in, but I've never heard you stutter." The archer nearly choked on his egg roll, stuffing another one in his mouth to stall before responding. 

"Y-yeah..." He took a deep breath, trying to calm the stutter before he continued. "Yeah, sometimes I st-stutter when I'm nervous." 

"Okay... I'm not judging, just observing... You're nervous when you're reading in front of one person, but you're not nervous while you're literally sniping people?"

"W-well, you've never heard me speak while sniping, now have you?" He grinned. Before Tony could respond to that, Bruce shuffled into the room, looking dead on his feet.

"Morning Brucie bear!" Tony smiled cheerfully, hopping up from the table to offer Bruce a mug of coffee. Bruce accepted the cup sleepily, while massaging his head, and staring blankly out the window.

"Morning?" Clint barked out a laugh at the scientists confused face.

"J, how long has Bruce been in his lab?" The youngest avenger tilted his head towards the ceiling. If an AI could sound concerned, JARVIS surely did. 

"Dr. Banner has not slept in 26 hours and 37 minutes." Clint laughed again, it was amusing sometimes how scolding JARVIS could sound. Meanwhile Bruce was blushing sheepishly, and had lifted his mug to hide himself from the scolding glare of Steve, who decided to walk into the room right at that moment, having just returned from his morning run. 

"No more lab time till you sleep, and eat a substantial amount." he ordered, a touch of his Captain America tone seeping into his voice. Bruce nodded and quickly poured himself a bowl of cereal, not interested in starting an argument with a super soldier. 

"If I might Captain Rogers." JARVIS pitched in, "Dr. Banner should, perhaps, not be your greatest concern. I believe the one you should be worried about is sir, who has not slept for over 52 hours and 19 minutes." Clint's jaw instantly dropped, and Bruce's spoon slipped from his hand into his cereal. 

"Tony, how?" Clint looked enthralled. Unlike Bruce, who'd at least had the sense to realize his mistake, Tony looked proud. 

"52 hours, huh? That's gotta be a record!" He raised his coffee cup as though in celebration. 

"It's not." JARVIS grumbled from the ceiling. 

"Tony, same rules go for you. Food. Sleep. No arguing." Tony scowled for a second, before a smirk crept onto his lips, and he waved an egg roll in front of him. 

"Food. Now can I go to the workshop? You know I don't _do_ sleep." 

"Egg rolls? For breakfast? No. You need substantial, breakfast food. Also, you have to _do_ sleep. Not sleeping just isn't an option, Tony." 

"Clint doesn't sleep when he's on missions, and he also eats egg rolls like, 24/7, but only I get a scolding?" 

"Clint is an adult, who can make his own choices. You, however are a child in an adult's body." Tony scoffed, 

"Adult? Please, Clint is a juvenile delinquent." Tony froze, he'd gotten so used to making fun of Clint's age, but maybe he wasn't allowed to anymore. Clint looked unbothered though, cackling at Steve's prior comment. 

"Eat now, finish your lesson with Clint later. Sorry, Clint." He added as an afterthought. Clint just shrugged and snapped the thin book shut, shoving it in the space between his leg and the side of his wheelchair. It seemed he'd amalgamated quite a collection of oddities stuffed on either side of his legs so that he could have them at all times. He was equipped with everything from granola bars to a dagger. Sometimes Tony forgot what a spy Clint was, and then he did stuff like that, and it reminded him. 

"S'all good cap. I think I'm gonna go hit the range." After Clint left the room, Steve shot Tony a disapproving look. 

"I'm making you breakfast, you too Bruce. I'm assuming you haven't eaten since you went into your lab?" The aforementioned scientist ran one hand through his hair while the other pushed his glasses further up on his nose. 

"Yeah, I guess that'd be correct." He sounded like he'd just thought of it at the same time as Steve. 

"Well than cereal's not enough. How do eggs and toast sound?" Tony scoffed, 

"Eggs and toast?"

"What, eggs and toast not _fancy_ enough for you, Stark?" 

"Not at all. Just," he grinned, "just sounds a hell of a lot like deconstructed egg rolls." After receiving a nasty glare from the captain, Tony held his hands up in surrender, "Fine, fine. Don't get your tights in a twist, I'll eat your eggs. But, I won't sleep." 

"Tony, don't think I'll hesitate to carry you to your room and tie you to your bed till your eyes close."

"Tie me to my bed?" Tony looked mock affronted, "Captain, do the good citizens of America know how kinky their national icon is?" 

"Shuddup, or you get to make your own breakfast." Though, Steve was already whipping the eggs, making it apparent his threats were empty.

* * *

The rest of the day was relatively calm for the avengers. Natasha briefed shield on her mission, and spent the rest of the day training in the gym with Steve. Clint spent hours in the archery range, hitting bullseye after bullseye before he ventured to the gym to watch Nat and Steve spar. And as for the scientists, well after a brief nap enforced by Steve, they both made a mad scramble for their respective workspaces before the captain could disallow them from going.

It wasn't till that evening that all the Avengers residing in the tower saw each other again. Tony had actually just ventured up from his workshop for a coffee refill (DUM-E broke the machine in his lab, and he didn't have the time to fix it), but when he saw the other members of the team had begun trickling in to eat dinner, he decided to join them. Bruce always made plenty when he was cooking, seeing as he often had to feed a super soldier and a god. 

Clint was the first one to greet him, from where he was fighting his way through top level of Super Mario on a purple ds. He didn't pause his game, or turn his head as he shouted, 

"Hey, Tony. Dinner isn't ready yet, but maybe we could finish our lesson?" Everyone, aside from Nat, startled at the greeting, seeing as nobody in the room had been looking at the door when Tony'd entered. 

"Sure thing, shortstack." He pulled up a seat next to Clint at the table, tucking his starkphone into his pocket, and setting it to do not disturb. "Do you remember where we were in the book?"

"Asset to society." Clint drawled easily, setting aside his ds and flipping open the book. Tony raised his eyebrows at the Bruce, who just shrugged in response. 

"Well alright then." Clint looked like he was ready to continue reading, he actually seemed to enjoy reading comprehension practice more than he did maths or sciences, but this time he hesitated and looked around the room. 

"Are you all going to stay?" He shot a pleading look to his fellow teammates. 

"I have to watch the food." Said Bruce apologetically. 

"I think I might stay." Steve looked less apologetic. "The Outsiders was on my list anyways. What era is it set, the 70's?" 

"60's." Nat supplied, "I read it when studying American culture, but I'd love to hear it again." She grinned mischeviously at the archer. "I won't tease, I promise, but reading infront of others is good for you, Clint." Clint frowned petulantly at the group.

"S-so you're all staying?" 

"Relax, маленькая птичка. Pretend we aren't here." Natasha'd adopted a firm instructing tone, but her hand was delicately cupping her friend's in a protective manner. Clint shot the other spy one last pleading look, but when he saw she wasn't leaving the room, he took a deep breath and began reading again. 

"G-greasers are almost like hoods; we steal things and drive old sou- how do you say that? Wait, souped-up cars and hold up gas stations and have and have a gang f-fight once in a while."

* * *

As Clint continued to read, the nervous energy filtered out of the room, replaced with a distinct feeling of comfort, and familiarity. Apparently, where the presence of the Black Widow holding one's wrist as the performed a task would stress most people, it seemed to relax Clint. As he read, he stuttered less, and began to slip into his typical relaxed speech. 

It was all very pleasant. That is, until Clint turned the page. 

"Since Mom and Dad were killed in an auto wre-" Clint's voice caught in his throat, and the tension flooded back into the room. He looked for a moment like he wasn't going to continue reading, and everyone else looked uneasey, especially Tony, who was leaning a little closer into Bruce than before. Meanwhile, Natasha squeezed Clint's wrist, and murmured,

"You don't have to continue птичка." That motivated Clint to shrug her off, and offer the others an awkward half smile. 

"I'm okay. You okay?" He turned to look at the genius beside him, who muttered,

"Peachy keen, jelly bean." That was all the confirmation Clint needed to continue reading, with the stutter back in his voice.

"in an auto wr-wreck, the three of us get to stay together only as long as we b-behave."

The reading went on for quite a while after that. By the time Bruce tipped his head over to the stove and muttered,

"Dinner might be ready soon," Johnny and Pony boy were in the church watching sunset. 

"Wait a minute." Tony lifted a hand, "Brucie, he's about to get to the best part." He nodded to the archer, who took a deep breath before he continued reading, like he was diving back into water. 

"Nature's first green is gold

Her hardest h-hue to hold

Her Early Leaf's a flower

But only s-so? so an hour

Then leaf sub- what's that word?"

"Subsides."

"Then leaf subsides to leaf

So Ed- eden sank to gri-gr-"

"Grief." 

"Right, grief. 

So dawn goes down to day

Nothing gold can stay" Clint exhaled heavily, lifting his eyes from the book. "Oh. That was pretty. Did S.E.-Hinton write that, too?" This time it was Steve who responded,

"No. It's a famous poem by Robert Frost. I remember reading it in school." 

"Oh." It seemed that was all the archer could say. "It's not sad, it's kinda'..."

"Reminiscent?" Bruce offered.

"Yeah, re-remi- some other smaller word that means the same thing." Clint broke the tension in the room with a bashful grin. "You said dinner was ready, Bruce?" Bruce smiled as well,

"Mhm, though it might be burned by now." Tony shook his head,

"Still smells good to me. Alright Avengers, enough of the touchy feely stories. Let's eat!" 

The team sprang into action around Clint, which he was grateful for. Enough of the damn touchy feely stuff indeed. He wasn't sure why that poem had made him feel so... so, reminiscent (was that the word?). It was just words, and he hadn't even known half of the words anyways. Still, he had to admit, that Robert Frost dude had a pretty impressive way with words.

_Nothing gold can stay,_ he thought. It kind of made him sad. This was his gold, wasn't it? Having all these people around him who cared deeply about him, for the first time _ever_. A chosen family, a sturdy financial situation, plus Bruce's cooking was delicious. And, he was helping people all around the world. This was his gold, and he didn't want it to subside to leaf, or whatever. _Maybe,_ he thought as he took in the busy scene around him, _maybe gold things can stay, if you just work hard enough to keep them._ He was going to keep his gold forever, he decided. 

He must've been in his thoughts for too long, because Natasha placed a plate laden with food in front of him, and tapped his arm. 

**"Good?"** She signed, giving him a strange look. 

**"Good as gold."** He responded with a small smile. And, he was. Good as gold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest chapter I've written for this fic. I really like it a lot. I also really like Robert Frost, especially Nothing Gold Can Stay, so I thought it might be fun to reference that poem in this book!


End file.
